Bored
by Rushi-Sama
Summary: Izaya's been bored lately and decides to shake things up on his next job. However, the arrival of Shizuo makes it a whole lot more... interesting. More so than Izaya bargained for. Shizaya. Fem!Izaya. M for Smut, Drinking, Language and Violence.
1. Chapter 1

Business had been slow lately.

Yakuza activity seemed to be pretty quiet at the moment, and Izaya'd had no new requests or jobs from them. His other big clients seemed to be annoyingly content with life at the moment, and he'd had no _new_ clients either. The few jobs he'd actually managed to get over the past two weeks were simple cases, only one even getting him out of the office at all.

This _new_ case was no different.

The instruction was simple really – get in, get the flash drive, get out, and DON'T make yourself a personal copy (of course Izaya would _never_…). He could have done it with nothing but a lock pick. Hell, he could have got _Namie_ to do it.

But Izaya was bored.

And he was going to _make_ this one interesting.

That's why, at 9 PM on a Friday night, Izaya checked his makeup one last time in a little silver compact mirror, while he sat in the back seat of a cab.

It was all still in place; the heavy black eyeliner he'd used to make his eyes more feminine and his mascara coated lashes still looked perfect. It hadn't budged yet – because of course he'd been careful to only use _waterproof_. It was his eye shadow that worried him most – rich brown, a few shades darker than his own pupils, slightly shimmery. He'd heard that glitter fallout was a _bitch_.

He adjusted his dark wig slightly, just enough so that the longer half of the slanted bangs would fall across his right eye when he looked down. He quietly glanced over the silky black curls that tumbled over his shoulders, the sparkling fake diamond, suspended around his neck by a thin silver chain, and finally, the sequined neckline of his dress. He pulled it up slightly, tugging on the satiny spaghetti straps on his shoulders, reminding himself to keep an eye on it. It wouldn't do to show off his _incredibly_-padded, _incredibly_-uncomfortable, but still _incredibly_-pretty strapless bra in the kind of place _he_ was going.

Izaya clicked the compact shut, just as the cab was pulling over. He opened his small silver purse, placing the mirror back in it, and looking over its contents one more time. Money? Check. Lip gloss? Check. Small, non-lethal dose of tranquilizer? Check.

He handed the money to the driver, and opened the cab door to get out. He carefully placed one foot on the pavement, before the other, not quite trusting the strappy black stilettos he was wearing to support his weight, even though he'd been practicing in them for a while, just to make _sure_ he wasn't going to fall on his face tonight. He luxuriated in the way soft ruffles of tulle brushed against his newly shaven legs, cutting off just above the knee (short enough to keep it interesting, but not enough for anyone to see what they shouldn't), as he was straightening up.

"Thanks," he smiled at the driver, putting into practice the voice he had been trying out over the past few days. Not too high. Not too overdone. Soft, quite low for a woman, and yet… _enticing_. Almost musical.

He closed the door softly with one hand and used the other to surreptitiously pat down his thigh. For a moment he panicked, not finding what he was looking for. He felt his eyes widen as the cab drove away… wanting to call the driver back, wanting to end this right here and now, but then – he found it.

Hidden under the frothy swirls and ruffles of tulle, hugged tight against his left thigh in an elasticised holster, was his familiar switch blade. He'd never do this job without it. Not now that he'd given himself so many… extra _complications_ to work through.

He breathed a sigh of relief, composing himself, resetting his lips into a flirtatious smile, not that much unlike his own trademark smirk.

And then he turned towards the club, and gracefully, letting his smooth legs brush up against each other as much as possible, he walked in. The bouncer glanced uninterestedly at him when he was flashed a smile, motioning with his hand that he should go through. Nobody stopped women as pretty as _that_ going on in, unless they were _trying_ to make the place unpopular.

Once in the club, he allowed himself a moment's pause, letting himself take his surrounding in, before continuing on towards the bar.

The place was moderately sized with a large bar and lounge area to one side. There was also a dance floor, that looked pretty packed already, and Izaya noted happily that it was a sufficient distance from the bar so that he'd be able to hear himself think over the pounding beat of the music.

Sitting down at the bar, he crossed his legs and set his purse on the table. The bartender made his way over to him and Izaya ordered a glass of red wine. Tapping his black nails on the table top in front of him as he waited for his drink, he finally allowed a small thrill to pass through him.

He'd had it from one of his most reliable sources that his target was coming to this _particular_ club on this _particular_ night. He'd also had it from several sources (reliable and unreliable alike) that the blonde haired foreigner was rather fond of pretty Japanese women and alcohol.

Of course, Izaya could have just gone to the club and followed him home. Held him at knife point and demanded the flash drive. Taken it home. Copied the files for himself. Handed it over to the well-paying client who employed him _this_ time. Gone back home and seen just why those files had been so goddam important to him…

But Izaya could also seduce him. Pretend that he so desperately wanted to get in the man's pants that he would follow him up to his hotel room like a puppy. Act like he was going to let the man have his way with him. And then, while gently caressing his face, sneak the tranquilizer into the back of his neck.

Tomorrow he'd wake up thinking he'd drunk too much and that lovely 'Kanra-chan' had taken off without leaving him so much as a cell phone number.

And Izaya found the latter plan of action so much more…

Amusing.

Well, he'd been _bored_ hadn't he?

The bartender came back with his wine, and he took a delicate sip, letting his barstool swing round slightly, so that he could more closely observe the room. And find out if his target was here. From his vantage point at the corner of the bar, he could see the rest of the club easily. He let his eyes drift lazily over the dance floor, playing with the catch on his purse. Then he scanned the lounge and the rest of the bar.

Not here yet.

Izaya sighed, uncrossing and recrossing his legs as he sipped at his wine again. This wasn't the end of the world. It was just possible he hadn't arrived yet… or maybe he was in the men's bathroom, which inconveniently happened to be the one place Izaya couldn't check.

For another ten minutes or so, he absently (or so it appeared) watched everyone who entered and left the club, also keeping an eye on the bathroom doors. He saw nothing and nobody that interested him. He did, however, have to turn away two men that each offered to buy him a drink.

"I'm _so_ sorry," he'd said, letting sympathy creep into his eyes as he shook his head slightly at each of the hopefuls. "I'm actually waiting for someone. That's _terribly_ nice of you though."

Of course they both understood completely, and they were sorry to bother 'her'. Yeah, right. Izaya knew better.

After that, he _did_ find himself starting to get bored. As much as it amused him to get dressed up like this (and he had smugly noticed that he was the most attractive woman in the club, having gotten quite a few stares), he didn't like how the lacy bra restricted his breathing, or how the heels made his feet hurt when he walked in them. He hoped the target showed up soon, and didn't make him suffer through this _all_ night.

He stood up, picking up his purse to slowly stalk towards the ladies room. He wanted to check out the club from a new angle, make sure there wasn't anywhere he'd missed, but just walking around might seem a little strange.

_And it would be painful_, he thought, forcing himself not to wince with each step towards the bathroom.

He had no luck though, seeing no one even remotely blonde as he stepped through the bathroom door. Not wanting to look strange just standing there, he checked his makeup again. Of course it was still perfect – Izaya hadn't messed around when he put it on, but he still popped open his purse and dabbed a bit more gloss on.

He was out again, looking very much 'on the prowl' as he was growing less and less subtle with his quick glances around. Not that it mattered. Women did this all the time, right?

He wasn't one hundred percent sure, but it wasn't drawing him any weird looks or anything, so he figured it was okay. What was _not_ okay, was that he still hadn't seen his target anywhere on the dance floor or at the lounge.

He bit his lip in frustration.

Scanning the bar as he approached his own seat again, his heart leaped as he thought he saw a flash of blonde on the other side of the bar. There was a bunch of people in the way, and he waited impatiently for them to clear.

And then his heart sank.

He _had_ seen someone blonde, and they _were_ sitting down on the far end of the bar from him.

But it wasn't the American womanizer he was supposed to be chatting up.

Not at all.

It was Shizuo.

_God dammit, _Izaya thought, pressing himself back into the shadows of his corner, and letting his thick bangs fall across his eyes. _If Shizu-chan recognises me, it's all over._

He couldn't help but smirk though. This really _was_ getting fun.

* * *

_A/N: So this was supposed to be a oneshot, but I realised it was getting way too long, so... a twoshot perhaps? We'll see when I write the next bit._


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, fun didn't come without its complications.

Izaya knew that if Shizuo recognised him, he was toast. He'd blow his cover, he'd beat him up and…

_There's no fucking __**way**__ I can run in these heels._

It would be okay though, as long as he stayed pressed into these shadows long enough for his target to show. Then he'd get over there and throw himself all over the man. Shizuo _wouldn't_ get in his way tonight.

He relaxed a bit when he noticed the bartender give him a funny look, letting some more light spill over him. Nothing would attract unwanted attention like squashing himself up in a dark corner. He sipped his wine again, letting the alcohol sink in and relax him. He'd had a fright – that's all. Shizuo being here didn't change the plan. Shizuo being here didn't change _anything._

He'd keep an eye on him though. Just in case.

After scanning the whole club once more and again not finding who he was looking for, he settled over his wine, cheek resting against his open palm, and sighed. What if his target didn't even show? Annoying bastard.

Through dark lashes and thick bangs, he peeked across the bar at Shizuo. He appeared to be alone, and he scowled at the bartender as he ordered a drink. When he walked away, he proceeded to scowl at the table top, and when he came back, he scowled at the glass that was placed in front of him.

Izaya smiled a little, pleased with how Shizuo was reacting to the crowded, noisy bar. He'd never be noticed if all the protozoan did was stare at the ice while it melted in his drink – something clear and strong looking. Vodka or gin, maybe. Honestly he was surprised. This place was pretty classy, above Shizuo's income bracket. Why was he even here? _He_ didn't look too pleased about it.

Suddenly, the blonde moved, grabbing the glass in front of him and taking a big gulp. And then another and another. Izaya raised his eyebrows slightly. Either Shizuo really believed in his own alcohol tolerance, or he was _trying_ to get wasted.

Izaya again glanced around the room.

Across the bar, Shizuo was ordering another drink. Izaya giggled as he picked up his wine and swirled it a bit. He was sure a drunk Shizuo would be a sight to see.

Unfortunately, it was one he wasn't going to _get_ to see, at least not _tonight_, because out of the corner of his eye, he saw a broad-shouldered, blonde foreigner walk in.

He checked his watch.

_Ten already. Bloody well took his time, didn't he?_

His target was here.

The game was on.

* * *

Shizuo didn't like clubs. And he didn't like bars. And the classier they were, the worse. _This_ place was the pits.

He'd felt very out of place when he'd entered. Big, ungainly, at least a head taller than everybody else in the room, and amplified by the group of girls gliding past him. The noise and music were a little too much for him to take at first, the base pounding so hard that he could feel the vibrations in the pit of his stomach.

It made him nauseous.

As soon as he'd seen a clear path to the bar, he'd taken it. He desperately needed a drink – something strong at that, and only a minute in. The bartender had raised a brow at him, either from the way he was scowling or the way he _obviously_ didn't belong here, but Shizuo ignored him. It wasn't like he wanted to be here either.

Maybe he should just leave. Turn and make a break for it before his drink appeared. This certainly hadn't been _his_ plan, and Tom hadn't even had the kindness to come _with_ him.

"_Go get laid or something, Shizuo," _he'd laughed._ "You're way too uptight these days."_

Shizuo'd thought he was only joking, until a couple of beaten up clients later, when Tom was actually giving him 'pocket money' and choosing out a place for him to go.

"_I'm not going."_

"_You'll have fun! When was the last time you did that?"_

Shizuo _had_ thought about it. It had definitely been a while. But he had other objections to Tom's plan, which was, essentially that he go to the bar to pick up women.

"_Woman aren't even interested in me."_

"_When was the last time you even tried?"_

When he'd come up with no answer, because honestly, he would have had to tell him about way back in _high school_, Tom had laughed.

"_How do you know they're not interested if you don't even try?"_

_Because they're scared of me, _he'd wanted to say, but bitten his tongue and held it back. He could see this argument go round in circles, and Tom _was_ only trying to help. No matter how much it _wasn't_ helping.

He'd thought about lying. Showing up at work on Monday and announcing that he'd spare Tom the night's details with the cute little brunette from the dance floor. Or maybe, that she'd rejected him, and that it had been a stupid idea in the first place. That way, Tom wouldn't try this shit _again_.

But, Shizuo knew himself too well. He'd have felt bad about taking Tom's money, and, because there was no way of Shizuo spending time here without blowing through his own measly funding, giving it back wouldn't have been an option. Tom would have caught on pretty fast that Shizuo hadn't tried very hard.

And then there was the pesky little problem of Tom making Shizuo _promise_ that he would legitimately try to chat some lady up. And Shizuo took promises pretty seriously.

He snapped back to reality, wondering when the drink that now sat in front of him, condensation already dripping down the sides, had gotten there. He swallowed harshly.

If he was doing this, he was doing it **right**.

He knocked the first drink back, quickly. Yes, he was doing this. He _had_ promised. But just because he was doing it, _didn't_ mean he wasn't going to fail miserably, and dear god, if he _did_, he did NOT want to remember.

Mind lingering on this train of thought, he ordered another vodka.

* * *

The American man was large and blonde, and was now seated comfortably on a long couch in the lounge area. He wasn't attractive by any means, chubby limbs spreading across the seat and his piggy eyes settling on the drink set in front of him by one of the bartenders.

Izaya shivered slightly, wondering how on earth none of his trusted sources had mentioned how grotesque he was.

As uncomfortable as he was with walking up to the man to properly begin what he had come to do tonight, he knew he needed to at least get his attention before any of the _other_ girls in the club did.

He'd seen a couple of glances sent his way, a cute blonde girl who'd just gone back to the dance floor had seemed particularly interested. The large gold watch on one arm and the champagne he'd ordered were obviously what baited her – obviously what got him _all_ of his suitors.

But really, Izaya _did_ want to gag.

However, he needed the guy to notice him.

He got up, hands wrapping around his purse, much more conscious of his model-like walk, now that he had someone to impress, and walked down the bar a bit, until he was directly in the man's line of sight.

"Excuse me," he said, with a soft wave of his hand to attract the bartender. "Could I have a glass of water?"

Once the bartender had nodded, he sat down on a new barstool, perfectly situated so that his target wouldn't be able to attract a bartender without looking straight at him. He spun his chair to face the man a little, smiling to himself.

_I'm not about to be outplayed by that blondie._

He realised there was a little danger in his new position. Shizuo was now able to see him clearly. But if all went well, he'd be over there on that couch in a moment, internally throwing up, with his target's arm over his shoulder. Stroke his ego a bit and a few sweet nothings, and he'd be on his way to the guy's hotel room in under forty-five minutes.

He crossed his legs once more, adjusting the skirt so that the small slit in the tulle fell across his upper leg, exposing quite a lot of milky thigh in the lounge's direction. He admired the show himself actually, marvelling at how good the deep red of the skirt looked against his skin. He sighed happily. Poor guy really didn't have a chance in hell.

He only had to wait a couple minutes for his target to look up from his empty glass in search of a bartender, and he wasted no time in taking his chance.

He ran his black finger nails absent-mindedly along the table top, 'accidentally' knocking his purse onto the floor, having strategically placed it there when he sat down. The shiny silver metal of the catch clattered noisily on the ground, and he saw his target's eyes dart towards the source of the noise.

With a little exclamation of "Oh!" and a dramatic fluttering of eyelashes, he hopped from his bar stool, repositioning himself so that he was mostly turned away from the lounge area. He then bent down, satisfactorily feeling the back of his dress lift up, not enough to flash the man his underwear, but enough to reveal a lot of leg.

He picked up the purse, stood up, and looked around as if to check if anyone had noticed his little faux pas. Someone had, as it turned out. Someone who was splayed on a couch in the lounge. He had more than noticed, he in fact looked quite interested, and Izaya, playing his part, widened his eyes and let a small, well-manicured hand fly to his mouth in surprise. To really sell the act, he let his cheeks blush a rosy pink, and then smile a small but mortified smile at the man, before pretending to turn back to his drink.

He took a sip of his water. Good. This was going good. He'd have the guy eating out of hand in no time.

He was flashing him another sheepish but-oh-so-cute smile, and planning his next move when he heard it.

He thought maybe he'd walk past him, just to let him get another good look at the mile of leg on offer, or maybe he'd go right up to him, make the first move with something like a "I couldn't help but notice your watch, is it real gold?" to feed his ego, or a "You looked lonely so I came over to see if you needed some company," when he was interrupted by –

"Can I… buy you a drink?"

He knew who it was before he even turned around.

* * *

_A/N: This keeps getting longer and longer. I don't under stand how I ever thought it would be a oneshot. Mini-multichapter time!_


	3. Chapter 3

After a few drinks, Shizuo's nerves had settled enough for him to 'check out the talent' as it were. Most of the women in the club were already with a man, or else laughing with a large group of friends, and Shizuo couldn't even _think_ about walking up to them.

But there were a few women who were alone – not that they looked all that more approachable to Shizuo – and the small, curvy red head who sat a few seats down the bar, sipping an expensive-looking cocktail had caught his eye first. Then there was also the blonde on the dance floor, who was so pretty that he thought that he might even dance if _she'd_ ask him too.

_Not that she would._

But then, all thoughts of both of them were completely erased, when he set eyes on the next one.

He had been aware of a presence in the corner seat of the opposite side of the bar before, but he hadn't thought much on it. The person had had so much shadow over them that he had found it hard to tell whether they were a man or a woman. But now she (for it was _clearly_ a woman) was getting up and walking along the bar to another seat.

She was… _breathtaking_.

She had long black hair that curled over her mostly bare shoulders, dark eyes smouldering underneath thick dark bangs. The way she carried herself was so… _feminine_… with her hands folded benignly over the silver purse she carried and her necklace sparkling when the dim light caught it. Her skirt swayed gracefully around her legs, and even though it was longer than most in the bar, there was still a mile of soft skin visible beneath it.

He didn't quite catch her voice over the chatter when she'd sat down and ordered a drink – he wished he had – but he caught the smile she offered the bartender. The corners of her lips pulling up softly, yet still managing to be somewhat teasing, somewhat playful.

For a second it seemed familiar, and then it was gone. Had he seen her somewhere before?

_Not a chance_, he thought. _I'd definitely remember a girl like __**that**__._

He finally looked away, scolding himself for staring, but an audible clatter from her vicinity pulled his eyes back in her direction, and he saw her gasp in surprise, having knocked her purse to the ground. What he saw next made him blush slightly, even though he wasn't even at the best angle to watch her skirt hike up went she bent over and picked up her purse.

He forced his eyes away.

He sighed.

If there was any girl in the bar he wanted to at least talk to, it was her. But she was probably the one least likely to spare him a glance. Seriously, even the way she sipped her drink, even the way she sat, even the way she so much as _breathed_, **screamed** 'out of your league'.

He tried to focus on the other girls. He honestly tried. But no matter where he looked, he found his eyes pulling back to her, and reluctant to leave once they'd found her face, her hands, her necklace… her _anything_.

Hell.

He'd come here expecting to fail, right? He told Tom he'd try, but he didn't say it would actually _work_. So what if she was out of his league? Right now… just getting a little closer to her seemed good. So what if he was rejected? He'd rather it be by her than any other woman in the club.

She was looking away when he approached her, and for that he was glad. It gave him a chance to open his mouth and for nothing to come out without her noticing. Gave his hands a chance to start sweating, his heart to start racing and his mind to go blank while looking stupid to everyone but her, before forcing himself to say what he had come to say.

"Can I… buy you a drink?"

* * *

There were so many good reasons for Izaya to say no.

First of all, he was right in the middle of a job. He was supposed to avoid interruptions like this at all costs. And Shizuo hitting on him was _definitely_ going to interfere, seeing as he was supposed to be warming up to his target over in the lounge. And he really _shouldn't_ be having another drink. The last thing he needed was to do something stupid tonight and wake up tomorrow with a foggy memory and a bad hangover.

The biggest reason of course, was that it was **Shizuo**. The one person that _couldn't_ recognise him. Under _any_ circumstances. At _all_.

_But, _he reasoned with himself. _Nothing's gone wrong __**so far**__. It's not like my wig's magically going to come loose just because he came over here._

And honestly, if he let this opportunity go, would he _**ever**_ be able to forgive himself?

Shizuo was here, in a bar, _hitting_ on him. He wasn't able to let it go. There was just **no** way. He would be able to hold it over him _forever_. And in the process, he could ruin Shizuo's chances of ever having a happy love life.

It was the _absolute_ perfect opportunity.

The job was important – it was true. And his client was offering a little _too_ much money for him to simply discard it just yet. But… he'd come here dressed like _this_ because he wanted to have _fun_.

And fun had just come looking for him, hadn't it?

His target could wait – Shizuo would be his main focus for the time being.

He turned towards the blonde man, who towered quietly beside him. God he looked nervous. Was this really the same Shizuo he brawled with on the streets every day? The same Shizuo who'd very nearly killed him on several occasions? The same Shizuo who he hated to admit could actually be quite the worthy opponent in a fight?

How far the mighty had fallen.

"That would be _so_ nice of you," he batted his eyelashes appealingly. "Could I have a glass of red wine?"

"Sure," Shizuo said, badly hidden relief washing over his face as he sat down and called the bartender over. "A glass of red wine and one of these."

He held up his glass for the bartender to see.

"So what's your name?" Izaya asked, noticing now that the relief had vanished from his face, Shizuo had begun to look terrified.

"I-I'm Shizuo," he stuttered. "And who are you?"

Izaya tried to keep his smile sugar-sweet and as innocent as could be, but on the inside, he was purring like a cat that was torturing some small animal. He couldn't help letting a tiny drop of sadism leak into his smirk when he said;

"I'm Kanra… I'm sure I've heard your name before somewhere."

Shizuo visibly tensed up.

* * *

_A/N: I think this is kind of a boring chapter in comparison to the others, but I found it necessary to describe exactly what each of our boys are thinking about. Enjoy :)_


	4. Chapter 4

When Shizuo'd stared back at him blankly, Izaya had taken a _little_ pity on him (but not much). He was terrified, and wasn't going to reply anytime soon. Not that he was particularly surprised – this didn't seem like the kind of thing Shizuo did often.

Because honestly – at that moment, Shizuo was staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

He obviously had no idea what to say, and probably thought that this was going to end _very_ badly and _very_ soon. But what Izaya wasn't telling him, was that Kanra wasn't quite _done_ with him yet. She wanted Shizuo to relax, to get used to this, to think it _might_ actually go somewhere.

And then, of course, it wouldn't.

"I can't really remember offhand, though," he knitted his eyebrows together gently, pretending to concentrate, and then sighed, his face lifting, eyes meeting Shizuo's. Izaya caught the way he relaxed, shoulders lowering, tension easing off of his neck.

_Don't get __**too**__ comfortable Shizu-chan._

"So, do you come here often?" He finally spoke, still sounding a little shy, and nothing like the monster Izaya knew him to be. It was perfectly fair, he reasoned, for Shizuo to use such a _cliché_ ice breaker. He was, of course, _very_ inexperienced in this field.

"This is my first time at this _particular_ club," he said, pausing to take a sip of the wine that the bartender had set out for him. "But I do spend quite a bit of time in _other_ places like this." He wasn't lying either; fancy clubs were usually his kind of client's first choice as a hang out.

"Are you enjoying it?" Shizuo asked, the fact that he hadn't been immediately rejected beginning to sink in, and relaxing him slightly more. Then again, that might also have had something to do with the drink (his **fourth**, if Izaya had counted correctly) that he took a gulp of, the smell telling Izaya that he had guessed right, and that it was, in fact, vodka.

"So far," he said, settling his eyes on Shizuo, giving him a quick once over and smiling devilishly. "I must say I am."

Shizuo swallowed harshly. Kanra couldn't really mean- no. She didn't. She was just being nice. But god – every time he'd begun to relax, she'd smile at him again and jolt him nearly halfway out of his seat. But it wasn't like he could _help_ it. She just… her lips… they sent little bolts of adrenaline hot-wiring through his veins, much like just before he flew into a blind rage, but not in an _altogether_ unpleasant way…

And then there was that familiarity - for a second he knew her from… _somewhere_… and then he didn't. It was like there was a face he _knew_ lurking beneath that smoky makeup, just _begging_ to be recognised.

But where on earth would Shizuo know a girl like _that_ from?

_Just cool it Shizuo, _he told himself. _You'll freak her out if you keep tensing up like this._

"That's… good," he answered lamely, mentally slapping himself. Why, oh why hadn't he gone through what to say and what _not_ to say before he'd come over here? He guessed it was because he really hadn't expected her to let him buy her a drink in the first place, let alone actually _talk_ to her.

"And what about you?" Kanra wanted to know. "No offence," she said gingerly, again glancing at him, eyes wandering over his bartender get-up (rather old-fashioned, compared to what the _actual_ bartenders in the place were wearing). "But you don't look like you've been here before."

Shizuo found himself wishing he'd changed after work before coming to the club. He certainly didn't exactly **fit in** with the crowd here – all in suits and cocktail dresses. Again though, he'd never really expected for anyone to spare him a second glance, and now that he they had, he felt somewhat ashamed. Kanra deserved better.

Despite his embarrassment, he forced a laugh. "No, I've never come here before. I usually avoid places like this."

"And why's that?"

"I don't really have the time, you know?" Shizuo lied. There was no way he was going to tell Kanra that he didn't go to clubs much because what he was doing _right_ _now_ was something that scared him, because generally, women weren't interested. And of course, because he couldn't afford it, but she didn't need to know _that_ either.

"What brings you here _tonight_, then?" Kanra asked, letting her nails trail along the table top, dangerously close to where Shizuo's hand was resting. He was both scared and fascinated by the thought of her touching him, but for his sanity's sake, it would be better if she didn't.

"I guess, I was just curious." _And I was completely forced into it._

"Oh? And how's that working out for you?" Kanra raised her eyebrows in a delicate question. "Are _you_ enjoying it?"

Shizuo tried not to too obviously stare at Kanra. But fuck, if she wasn't staring right back at him, with those dark eyes smouldering. Smouldering with promises of… _more_. "Yeah, I am."

"And…" Izaya trailed off, letting himself shift closer to Shizuo, who so noticeably _noticed_. "Are you here alone?"

"Yeah." Shizuo stopped trying so hard not to look at her. Because really, _how_ was he supposed to keep his eyes off when she had clearly been born to be _looked at_. He allowed his eyes to skim her body, taking in her shape – much more angular than other girls, less curvy, slimmer– and trying not to linger too long on her breasts.

"That's good," she said, her voice dropping to a low purr that made Shizuo want to both run and hide, and pin her to the nearest wall and kiss the living daylights out of her. "Then I won't feel like I'm… _stealing you away_ from anybody."

"Hah," Shizuo half-laughed as he took another sip of his drink. "There's no one to steal me away from."

_I'm all yours if you want me._

"Really?" Izaya asked, inching even closer, relishing in the way Shizuo couldn't stop _looking_ at him with those big brown eyes. "Not even a… girlfriend?"

Shizuo snorted rather impolitely into his drink. "No. No girlfriend."

"Really? I…" Izaya faltered, finally let his fingertips brush over Shizuo's hand, and honestly being surprised at how soft it was. Shizuo glanced at the source of the touch with slight alarm. "I wouldn't like to think I was… taking a nice guy like you _away_ from someone."

Shizuo looked at her again, startled by how much closer she'd managed to slide her barstool in the seconds he'd been looking away. He held her gaze this time, growing less and less shy as the seconds ticked past. Truth was, when she looked at him, it felt like she could see right through him and all his little white lies. Truth was, he didn't even _care_ anymore.

"Really, there's no one."

There was a general lull in conversation in the room, chatter pausing momentarily as they gazed at each other. Surprisingly, it was Izaya who looked away first, a small blush spreading over his face as he did so. He'd got so caught up in the moment, that he'd been staring too deeply into Shizuo's eyes. Probably the worst thing for his cover.

For a second, he wondered why this wasn't as fun as it was supposed to be. Shizuo wasn't squirming uncomfortably in his seat, and he was _almost_ starting to feel bad for what he-

Almost. But not quite.

He angled his body more towards Shizuo, letting his leg brush against him as he recrossed his legs, again adjusting the slit of the skirt for maximum exposure. He smiled, stifling a small laugh when he saw how Shizuo went out of his way to avert his eyes.

_Never knew you were such a __**gentleman**__, Shizu-chan. You never treat __**me**__ like this._

"Oh, don't worry, Shizuo," he said, placing a comforting hand on his arm, feeling the muscles beneath his shirtsleeve shift and tense uncomfortably. "Good guys like you _always_ find someone in the end."

Shizuo laughed again, albeit a little uncomfortably from Kanra's proximity.

"How do you know I'm such a good guy?" He found himself leaning closer as he finally caught the scent of her perfume in the air. Light and decadent, almost drowned out because of the alcohol and how lightly she'd applied it, almost as if she herself, would taste delicious.

But then again, if anyone was taking a bite out of anyone, it was Kanra, if the way she glanced up at him was anything to go on.

"Aren't you?" She challenged from beneath a fringe of dark lashes, a mischievous smile beginning to tug its way onto her face. Shizuo found himself transfixed as she leaned even closer, sliding her hand along his arm, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Are you a _bad boy_?"

Shizuo gulped.

When had he stopped telling himself not to hope for anything? When had he let himself _dare_ to think that Kanra might be interested in more than talking? Shizuo didn't know, and even though he probably didn't qualify as a bad boy in the terms that _she_ was implying, he would bloody well _try_ to be one for her_. _He would be _anything_ for her.

Was she really that interested in him though? He glanced at her. She sure _looked_ interested; staring up at him intently, her eyes flickering with more a… _hungry_ glaze than before, her smirk turned teasing as she damn well _dared_ him to answer the question.

Everything about her; her smile, her wandering hands, her muted perfume… those dark eyes, that smile… that _familiar_ smile… it all made him want her even more. Made him want her hands to wander further, to touch him _more_, in places that she couldn't while he was still bound by the restraints of clothing. He wanted to feel her whispers, hot and breathless on his neck, at his ear, over his mouth. He wanted to see for himself if her skin would be as smooth as it looked and as delicious as it smelled.

Something apprehensive stirred in his belly. God, just… everything about her was a turn-on. He knew it was time to take a chance, or he'd probably never see her again.

When he spoke, his voice came out gruff, and low and _different_.

"Do you want me to _show_ you?"

Izaya felt his stomach churn with something other than nausea, as he sat back and away from Shizuo. This had escalated more quickly than he'd thought it would, and it was time to end this.

He ignored the tiny rush of disappointment as he squashed the last of Shizuo's dwindling ego.

"Actually, I don't," Kanra said, voice suddenly cold. She sighed, abruptly getting up and grabbing her purse. "Goodnight Shizuo."

* * *

_A/N: This is by no means the end. Oh no no... (evil laugh)_


	5. Chapter 5

Shizuo blinked.

_What just happened?_

He could have sworn that this time, he _hadn't_ made any mistakes. _This time, _things had been going well. _This time_, she'd actually been interested too. Wasn't Kanra the one who had set things off anyway?

"_Are you a __**bad boy**__?"_

How could he have been wrong? How could that _not_ have been flirting? What had Shizuo done _wrong_? Why did she just _leave_?

Shizuo had too many questions and not a single answer, and that just made his head hurt.

What hurt even more though, was that Kanra had been the only one he'd **really** ever cared about. The only one he'd **really** wanted to keep.

And he'd just screwed that up too, hadn't he?

Not that he even knew _how_…

To add insult to injury, Kanra had immediately sashayed her way up to a guy in the lounge, and was now happily sipping something expensive-looking. He really wasn't that attractive, his chubby arm looping around Kanra's waist while she was giggling. He watched as she shifted, uncomfortable for a moment as his hands wandered where they really _shouldn't_.

Shizuo fumed as he pawed her up. What did that guy have that Shizuo didn't? Okay… from the size of his watch, money obviously. But apart from that… what? Definitely not looks, and Shizuo wasn't even a narcissist in the slightest, but he did consider himself better looking than _that_ guy.

Or maybe what pissed him off, was that Kanra didn't look half as… _alive_ as she had when she was inches from him, tempting him with promises of unspeakable things. She really didn't look like she was enjoying the guy's hands on her, and whenever he wasn't looking she looked slightly disgusted.

_She didn't look like that when she was over __**here**__._

God he just… needed a drink. Another one. Even though he'd had another couple since Kanra'd left. He'd never met a girl that made him feel so… vulnerable **and** invincible at the same time. And now that she'd left, and the bartender was placing his third drink since in front of him, he didn't really know how to feel.

Disappointed for one. He'd wanted her so badly… he'd do pretty much anything for her to come back over here, or for her to give him another chance. It didn't even have to be tonight, and it didn't have to involve sex, but one more chance, a phone number… it would have meant the world to him.

And of course, he was angry. At everyone. Angry at Kanra, because she was too goddam _perfect_, because she'd broken his heart and he'd only known her for half an hour. Angry at her because she teased him and then… just _dropped_ him. Angry at himself for hoping. Angry at himself for unknowingly screwing up. And of course, angry at that guy over in the lounge because he treated her with _so_ much less respect that he had, and got _so_ much more.

He'd thought about drinking himself unconscious. Maybe then he'd forget the whole entire night, the whole entire let down. Maybe… but then again, could Shizuo _really_ ever forget that smile, those eyes? Could Shizuo _really_ ever forget Kanra?

And even if he could, did he really _want_ to?

The worst feeling of them all, was knowing that when Kanra walked out of the bar with that man (because from the way she was now whispering into his ear, that was the way it was going), he knew, he'd never see her again.

* * *

Izaya couldn't even blame himself for panicking.

Because how on _earth_ was he supposed to know, when he'd only ever seen Shizuo as a monster capable of hitting and hurting, that he could be so… _gentle_. Tempting. Appealing. How was he supposed to know that Shizuo was actually capable of _turning him on?_

Now seated uncomfortably under the arm of a notably _less_ attractive man, he blushed anew at the thought, and John (as Kanra had been instructed to call him) thought it was due to his _own_ attentions that Kanra had flushed so prettily.

Izaya had meant for it to go slower, for Shizuo to shy away from such an openly suggestive question, but Shizuo hadn't done what was expected. He'd caught him by surprise, but not quite as much as his own body's reaction to the answer.

"_Do you want me to __**show**__ you?"_

Who knew Shizuo was capable of being so _dirty_? Izaya had even been about to say yes…

He smiled, nodding prettily at John as he continued to waffle on about something to do with his business or his car or… oh, something _expensive_. Izaya really didn't care, and John didn't seem to care whether _Kanra_ cared, only needing the occasional encouraging nod for him to continue.

Izaya'd much preferred the playful give-and-take of his conversation with Shizuo. In fact, this John guy was _such_ a pain in the ass – always trying to feel him up, and Izaya'd had to be careful he wasn't going to find out that what he was so interested in was actually _fake_. Shizuo had been way more respectful, being _touched_ rather than _touching_, _looking_ rather than _feeling_... even if his thoughts _had_ taken a turn for the perverted towards the end…

He sighed quietly, not loud enough for John to hear, and glanced somewhat wistfully back at Shizuo as he ordered another drink. How many had he had since he'd left to come over here? Three? And then, Shizuo was looking at him accusatorily and he had to turn back to smile at John.

He had the sudden urge to go back there and apologise. To continue the conversation where it had been left off… if Shizuo would _let_ him, of course. Or maybe, someday after this job was done, he'd contact him and arrange to meet again in his free time, when there would be no jobs to force him away from Shizuo's intense gaze, and the shyness that Izaya was now starting to think had been sort of _cute_.

But no – he reminded himself that Shizuo hadn't fallen for _him_, but Kanra. _She_ was the one he wanted, and even if he could continuously play dress up and pretend… Shizuo would probably start to find it strange that such a flirty girl never gave him anything, err, _below_ _the_ _belt_.

He had a sudden wave of irrational jealousy towards Kanra, his persona. _She_ could illicit looks from Shizuo that Izaya had never even _thought-_

Oh, god. He was falling for Shizuo wasn't he?

Or maybe it was the alcohol. Yes, it _had_ to be the alcohol. And really, why _was_ he letting his emotions get in the way of a job like this. He glanced over at John, who had finished his story and was taking a deep drink from his glass.

_It's time to get this show on the road._

Izaya leaned up, twisting his body against John's side as he cupped his hands over his ear.

"Why don't we… go someplace a little more _private_?" he whispered silkily into the blonde man's ear.

He sealed the deal with a smirk that made John squirm in his seat.

* * *

Shizuo'd noticed them leaving, Kanra's hand placed delicately over the guy from the lounge's, as she pulled him along towards the door, a rather fake looking smile plastered onto her face and not a spare glance at Shizuo.

And then they were out of the door, and Shizuo would _never_ see her again.

So it wasn't really even Shizuo's _fault_ when he followed them.

Because first of all, he was _drunk_, though he wasn't sure if it was from the vodka or from Kanra's perfume. His mind could just _not_ persuade his legs to go back to his barstool as he swayed slightly on his way to the door.

Second of all, he was beginning to feel very, _very_ pissed off, and when Shizuo was pissed off, bad things happened. He knew this, and he needed to go find something to punch. Like a wall. Or that guy's _head_.

And of course, how could he just sit back and watch Kanra exit his life altogether, when she'd been the _one_ girl to pay him more than five minutes attention since… oh, _high school_ probably. Right now, given his state of mind, he couldn't really remember. And she'd made him feel like… like he was on _fire_.

It occurred to him, as he pulled open the door and the cool night air rushed over his skin, hot from rage and where Kanra's hands had lingered, sobering him slightly, that this was a bad idea.

But he didn't care anymore.

They hadn't got far, only half a block ahead of him, and with his long legs and longer strides, Shizuo'd found it easy to catch up.

"Kanra-chaaaan~" he called out, voice loud on the quiet streets as both Kanra and the guy who clung to her arm, turned around to see who it was. "Why'd you _leave_ me?"

Izaya could tell from his slurring and the sheer amount of alcohol he'd watched the man consume back at the bar, that Shizuo was drunk. He shivered slightly. Was this how girls felt when creepy guys tried to follow them home?

"He's drunk," Kanra whispered to John. "Just ignore him and walk quickly."

Izaya was already tugging on his arm, willing him to walk away, willing Shizuo to just _freaking_ _leave_ already. But John had had quite a few of his _own_ drinks, and was feeling cocky.

"Hah?" he asked, tearing his arm away from Kanra rather roughly, and heading back in the direction of Shizuo. "What do you want, asshole?"

"Give me my girl, back!"

Kanra tapped a foot, not really liking being referred to as anyone's possession.

"She ditched you for me, didn't she? I think she's made it _clear_ who she belongs to."

Izaya winced in apprehension. This was not going to end well for John, and while Izaya knew better than to get in Shizuo's way when punches were flying, if bad things happened to _John_, bad things happened to _him_.

That's the only reason he called out to Shizuo; "Shizuo, just leave him. Things between you and me wouldn't have worked out."

He let a little regret tinge his tone, and he hoped to god John didn't add any more stupid remarks, because Izaya didn't think he could save him in these shoes that had been hurting like _hell_ for the past hour, or pull out his knife without Shizuo recognising it. Not to mention that he really wouldn't have minded watching John getting his ass kicked, shivering as he imagined those sweaty paws all over him again.

"You see," John chortled, obviously the most amused in the situation. "She chose _me_, so you might as well just fuck off and-"

_Why_ John didn't see the fist flying towards him until it was too late was lost on Izaya as he threw all of his weight against Shizuo in an attempt to knock him off-track. He _mostly_ succeeded, the punch glanced off of John's jaw, rather than into the bridge of his nose.

Still, it was enough to knock the man unconscious.

That Kanra had literally thrown herself at him had been surprising – she was heavier and sturdier than Shizuo'd thought. But it was the way she'd crumpled to the ground afterwards, that _really_, _truly_ and _finally_ sobered Shizuo up.

"Kanra, are you-"

"_Fuck_," Izaya hissed. That was it. That was the _whole_ _goddam_ _job_ gone up in smoke. And all because of that freaking _Shizuo_ screwing it up for him.

He got up without the help of the hand that was offered.

"Kanra?" The look of sheer rage on her face was enough to make him take a step back.

"Do you know," Izaya paused taking a deep breath. "What the hell you have _**done**_, Shizu-chan?"

…

_Shizu-chan?_

"Shizu-chan?"

_Oh, shit._

* * *

_A/N: Shit's about to hit the fan guise._


	6. Chapter 6

Izaya realised his mistake a heartbeat too late. Too late to turn his face and not be recognised. Too late to play it off as a few too many drinks and being a tad presumptuous.

Too late to dodge the punch that now smacked into his jaw, sending him skidding up against the nearest building.

Opening his eyes and wondering when he had clenched them so tightly shut, he tried to haul himself up from the ground. His heels had other plans though – and one of them caught on the rough concrete of the sidewalk, pulling him back to the ground and twisting his ankle.

But then again, he didn't really even _need_ to get up, because Shizuo was over him in a split second, yanking him up by the delicate neckline of his dress. At another time, Izaya would be worried about it, and probably voice how _expensive_ it had been, but at the moment, he had _other_ things to worry about

Shizuo grabbed him by the arms and thrust him back into the wall, hearing his head smack satisfactorily against the chipped bricks. The rage that raced through him now, making his mind go blank and his breath come in short, feverish puffs, was far worse than usual. Because _this_ time, Izaya had fucking well crossed the **last** line.

He was _going_ to kill the little shit tonight.

Izaya's head spun, and for a moment he couldn't see properly. He groaned when the bruise on the back of his skull began to ache and he wondered whether he had a concussion. When his vision returned – he wished it hadn't. Because with Shizuo pinning him to a wall (not that he could run away with a twisted ankle _anyway_), and looking more pissed than he had _ever_ seen him, Izaya realised he was in a rather sticky situation.

"Izaya, what the _**fuck**_?!" When Shizuo finally spoke, after a short time of trying to calm his nerves, he practically _spat_ the words, his eyes just _ablaze_ with anger. He pushed Izaya again, watching the skin of his arms dig into the brickwork hard enough to reave angry red marks.

Izaya, for his part, squirmed in Shizuo's grip, winced in pain and groaned again.

The blonde was somewhat taken aback. The Izaya he knew didn't **do** that. He didn't act weak.

Then again – the Izaya he knew didn't dress in drag _either_.

He shook his head, trying to shake it off. But the thing that bothered him most was that, even though his mind still wanted to _kill, kill, kill_… his eyes still saw _Kanra_. The girl he'd fallen for.

The girl he'd _never_ lay a hand on.

It all made sense now – now that he finally recognised 'her' – why he thought he'd seen her before (because he _had_, almost every single day) and why her smile had seemed so familiar (because it was that goddam _flea's_ signature facial expression). Why he'd felt like he'd known her forever, because… because he _had_… well at least since high school.

And as much as his mind screamed and begged for him to go ahead and crack the asshole's skull open, he couldn't. Because the person in front of him was _Kanra_ - or so his eyes told him. And he freaking _loved_ Kanra. But then – wasn't she Izaya? Did that mean he loved Iza-

Fuck no.

"What the fuck are you even _wearing_?" He chose to yell instead, because yelling is often easier than thinking.

Izaya's eyes snapped open, and he rolled his head to the side in disgust, because Shizuo was _really_ up in his face. Now that his mind was a bit clearer – he was **pissed**. Several factors contributed to his mood; the splitting headache, his tender ankle, Shizuo yelling at him, and of course, that idiotic monster costing him a _very_ well-paying job…

"Well, _you_ seemed to like it," he smirked, knowing that what Shizuo hated most was mental torture.

"N-no, I…" Shizuo sputtered, mouth opening and closing a few times as an expression of utter perplexity, and an interesting shade of pink crossed his face. Then he growled, shaking it off, the mental strain proving too much for him. "The _fuck_ are you doing?"

"I," Izaya looked straight at Shizuo, smirk fading. "Had a job. That you screwed up."

"Didn't know you did _that_ kind of work, flea," Shizuo chuckled, eyes skimming over Izaya's get up, coming to his own conclusions. "Should have known you were fucked up enough."

"Fuck. You." Izaya spat through clenched teeth, eyes turning cold. "That guy," he paused to jerk his chin in John's direction. "Has a flash drive I'm supposed to get. So, _Shizu-chan_, if you have a _better_ way of getting into his hotel room, please fucking tell me."

"His ho- _Fuck_," Shizuo's amused smirk returned. "I was actually joking when I said you were into that."

Izaya took his chance, thinking that maybe Shizuo had loosened his grip as a consequence of his amusement, and tried to wiggle out of the large hands that held him. If anything – he needed his hands free. Then he could get his knife, and maybe have a chance in this fight.

"I wasn't going to fucking _sleep_ with him," he spat, managing to slip out of Shizuo's hands. "Don't you think he would have noticed I'm a _guy_? Not everyone's as fucking stupid as _you_, Shizu-chan."

Unfortunately for Izaya, Shizuo was faster than he'd estimated on grabbing his wrists before they reached his thigh – before they reached the safety of his knife. Shizuo shoved them back, holding them above his head. The raven squirmed again, flailing his legs and trying to kick Shizuo with the sharp points of his stilettos. But being who he was, Shizuo hardly felt a thing when the sharp edges made contact with his shin.

"And I guess he was just gonna _give_ you the damn thing then?"

"I was going," Izaya sighed, stilling in Shizuo's iron grip. "To tranquilise him."

_And I'd tranquilise __**you**__ if I had brought a big enough dose for a monster._

"Oh," Shizuo said, this time not having an insult to shoot back, because Izaya's plan _probably_ would have worked.

Izaya felt his bitter anger – the kind that coursed through his veins at speed, the kind that felt like it could burst through his very _skin, _the kind that made him wonder if it was how he made Shizuo feel by making an appearance – begin to mix with exhaustion. He'd been up for a long time, and these shoes he was wearing hurt like a _bitch_. He was pretty sure he looked a mess – there was _no_ _way_ his makeup had remain unscathed in his fight with Shizuo, and he was pretty sure some of the sequins on the neckline of his dress were gone, ripped away by Shizuo's clumsy hands.

And hell – if he was going to let this job, this job he'd put _so_ _much_ fucking effort into, he had tried _so_ hard for, go just yet. He could see just one more way to get it done. One more chance to end the night successfully after all – even if he had _royally_ screwed up the moment he'd let Shizuo buy him a drink.

And god – he was _going_ to do it.

But first, he needed Shizuo to let him go.

"Just let me go," he sighed irritably. "I'm not in the mood for this tonight."

"No," the blonde growled, leaning down and closer, trying to look more intimidating than he already did.

"Shizu-chan just-"

"Not until you tell me what the fuck that was back in there." Shizuo jerked his thumb back in the direction of the club.

"Well," Izaya began. He did **not** want to talk about it. "You offered to buy me a drink. And I let you."

"What the _fuck_ Izaya!? Why would you _do_ that?"

"Listen here," Izaya growled, suddenly much more aggressive than before. "_You_ came on to _me_. _**You**_ were fucking hitting on _**me**_. And I declared it _open-fucking-season_, Shizu-chan."

"Don't tell me," Shizuo jostled Izaya painfully then. "That _you_ weren't fucking into it. You fucking well were."

"No I fucking well _wasn't_." Izaya hissed, making a movement much akin to the way a cat would flatten its ears when threatened.

"Yes you-"

"Put me down."

"But-"

"Put. Me. The fuck down. _**Now."**_

It was something in Izaya's face that made him do what he was told.

Izaya dusted himself off, readjusted the neckline of his dress and straightened his wig, before shooting Shizuo a look that could whither flowers. Then he stalked off, trying not to limp every time he stepped on his twisted ankle, and finding it very hard in his ever more-annoying heels. He dropped to his knees beside John's body, trying to slip his hands into his trouser pockets, but finding it impossible with the man lying face-down.

He tried to roll the body over. But first of all, John was huge – Izaya would have had trouble moving him on a normal day. And this wasn't a normal day – not with Izaya in stilettos and completely exhausted. So after a moment or two, he sighed and gave up.

"Could you," he said, swallowing his pride and not daring to look back at Shizuo, who had turned to watch him in amusement. "Help me?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because," Izaya tried his hardest not to growl, because he knew that _he_ was the one asking for a favour. "_You_ screwed this up for me in the first place."

"You were asking for trouble when you let me buy you that drink," Shizuo crossed his arms. "And besides, I don't give a shit about this shady crap you're up to."

Izaya cursed under his breath. This tactic wasn't working. He knew there were other things he could do to get Shizuo to help him – things he really did _not_ _want_ to do. However, he'd already tossed most of his pride in the trash tonight. Why not go all the way?

What Izaya did next, was something he was _not_ proud of.

"Shizuo," he turned, voice going back up to Kanra level as he batted his eyelashes pleadingly. "I… really need your help."

Shizuo stared. Then he closed his eyes, pressing two fingers to his temple.

"Izaya, do _**not**_ do that."

"Please?" he whispered, trying as hard as he could to make his voice breathy and desperate.

That did it. Muttering unprintable things under his breath, Shizuo strode over to John's body and nudged him with his foot over onto his back. Immediately after, he took a step back and half turned away, digging in his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter.

"I'm going," he said, pausing to take a drag on the freshly lit cigarette. "To kill you one day."

Izaya smirked devilishly as he reached into John's pockets, searching for a hotel key. If he could manipulate Shizuo like this, he could do _anything_.

He fished out the key and turned to Shizuo, still keeping up the Kanra act.

"Why thank you Shizuo," she said politely. "I had a lovely evening but I must be going-"

"That hotel's near here," said Shizuo glancing at the name on the keychain in Izaya's hand.

"I no longer need your help," Kanra said, smiling blandly.

Izaya turned, beginning to walk away. It was true he didn't really know where the hotel that he was supposed to be going to was, but he was sure a cab driver would. Unless of course it was so close that the driver laughed and told him he was crazy, told him to stop wasting his time.

Still. His pride would not allow him to accept Shizuo's help anymore.

Until, of course, he trusted his swollen ankle with a bit too much of his weight, and it buckled beneath him. As gravity pulled him down, he braced him himself for the sting of tar and the pain of an unusable ankle.

Instead, he found himself hitting something notably softer, and clad in a black and white bartender's uniform.

Izaya told himself it was the pain – his ankle, his head, his jaw – that let him sink to this level. This level that allowed him to fall heavily into the other man's arms, and hide his face in the front of his uniform.

Because it was better than the _alternative_.

He looked up, praying to god that he was imagining the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, planning on telling Shizuo that he had _meant_ it when he'd said he didn't need any help. Even though it was a blatant lie.

Instead though, he found the words sticking in his throat when he saw the concern in the other's eyes and the tenderness in the way he held him. He knew it was all for Kanra, and not him. He knew it should have disgusted him.

But somehow, it just didn't.

"Could you," He found himself asking Shizuo for his second favour of the night, averting his eyes in miserable embarrassment. "Help me get to the hotel?"

* * *

_A/N: Whoa. I'm sorry that took so long compared to all the other chapters guys. It's just that you guys set the bar for this chapter pretty high, and I rewrote it like 3 times. I hope this fulfills your expectations. Also I've been busy lately. Exams are coming up - but I'll try to finish this story before studying REALLY kicks off :)_


	7. Chapter 7

The bed in the hotel room looked inviting, all thick, fluffy duvets and soft, downy pillows, and it took all of thirty seconds before Shizuo was flopping down on it, legs wide, arms spread, sighing like a satisfied child.

The place was luxurious – apart from the bed (king-size, by the looks of it), he found himself staring up at an impossibly large flat screen TV. It was high up on the wall, _perfect_, Shizuo thought, because he didn't need to move, and it wouldn't give him a crick in his neck.

He glanced at Izaya, who was scanning the room thoroughly, dark eyes flitting over every detail. What was it that he said he was here for again? A flash drive?

Whatever. It wasn't as if he _cared_. The only reason he was there was to haul him back to his fancy-ass apartment after he was finished, because of the flea's goddam inability to walk.

_Why_ was he doing this again?

_Kanra lifts her face from his shirt, and blushes deeply when she sees him. There are tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and some of her makeup has smudged down her cheek. Not that it makes her any less beautiful – no._

_She looks tired. She needs rest. He wants to hold her close. He wants to take her home. But no – then she would get the wrong idea._

_She opens her mouth to speak, and it looks hard for her to say the words._

"_Could you,"_

_Yes. Yes. Whatever it is she's asking. Yes._

"_Help me get to the hotel?"_

A blush of his own splashed across his face as he remembered why he agreed to this. Because he's stupid. Because he's _weak_. Because he's fallen under the spell of a girl who's turned out to be his worst enemy, and not a girl _**at**_ _**all**_.

He pushed the mental image aside, and wondered if Izaya would mind if he watched some TV while he waited.

Izaya had been rummaging through the cupboards for a while now, and Shizuo had the unfortunate bad luck of glancing over when he had reached the bottom shelf. The sight he was presented with, was Izaya bending over with his ass on full display. Shizuo found himself wondering why it was so feminine, so _prettily_ curved, or if it was just the dress. **That** dress- that _sinful_ tulle which just _refused_ to cover his thighs when he was standing like that… those milky, _soft_ thighs, that he really shouldn't be looking at-

Because, oh _god_. He was checking out Izaya's ass.

He whipped his head away, blush deepening.

_You've been checking out __**more**__ than his ass all evening, stupid._

Hoping to crush his own skull, or at least stop thinking for a moment, he pushed the heel of his hand into his forehead. God he was so confused. Because as much as he abhorred Izaya, he _couldn't_ stop looking at him.

He'd never known the little shit could look so freaking _fuckable_.

Wait, _**what**_?!

He physically facepalmed. No. He did **not** just think that.

The sound of his palm hitting his forehead pulled the interest of Izaya, who was now finished his search of the cupboards, and was (_thankfully_) standing up.

"You okay?" he questioned, more out of curiosity than concern.

"Fine," he grunted, using all of his brain power not to look at the smaller man. He failed, and slipped the tiniest of glances.

Mistake.

Now that Izaya was inside, and away from the public eye (and people who still thought he was a woman), he didn't seem to care what his dress was doing. The neckline was skew, slipping a bit too low over one of his breasts. And even though Shizuo knew they were fake, he had to fight the urge to peer over and get a good look.

Shizuo pressed a hand over his face, to hide his cheeks deepening further. He swallowed. He felt his stomach stir apprehensively for the second time that night. Immediately, memories of their earlier conversation flooded, unbidden and unwanted, into his mind.

_Everything about her; her smile, her wandering hands, her muted perfume… those dark eyes, that smile… that familiar smile… it all made him want her even more. Made him want her hands to wander further, to touch him more, in places that she couldn't while he was still bound by the restraints of clothing. He wanted to feel her whispers, hot and breathless on his neck, at his ear, over his mouth. He wanted to see for himself if her skin would be as smooth as it looked and as delicious as it smelled._

Shizuo cursed his mind for reminding him of how tempting she was. _He_ was. He felt himself hyper-aware of Izaya's presence in the room, his limped steps loud on the carpeted floor, as he went this way and that. He cursed his body for being too hot. Too _excited_.

And _hell_ but if it wasn't all shifting, _dripping_, _**pooling**_ lower…

_Shit_.

He needed to get out of here. He **needed** too. But then - like a fool – he'd feel bad about leaving '_Kanra-chan'_ without anyone to take her home.

Maybe he _should_ have watched some TV after all, to distract himself. But that would've meant looking around for the remote, and risking a glance or two at Izaya. Which was _not_ a good idea.

He let his hand press hard into his face, covering his eyes, hoping to calm himself down. He felt trapped. Trapped in a hotel room – in fact _locked_ in a hotel room (for Izaya didn't want anyone interrupting his little search, and he had kept the key) – with a _sexy_ little shit who didn't know how much he was turning him on.

This was not going to end well.

Izaya was moving closer to him then, and Shizuo would've sold his soul to _Satan_ for the raven not to notice what was going on under his pants. He swallowed harshly, wanting to withdraw the hand that dangled off the side of the bed so _dangerously_ close to where Izaya was, but fearing it would draw attention-

A stumble. A fall. Izaya clasping onto his hand tightly to catch himself as his ankle gave way again. Shots of liquid fire going straight up his arm and straight down to his groin. Shizuo stifling a loud groan by stuffing his knuckles into his mouth and biting down _**hard**_.

"Sorry," came the mumbled reply and Izaya drew himself up and _oh_-_so_-_mercifully_ let go of Shizuo's hand.

"S'ok," is all Shizuo could manage without his voice sounding extremely strange.

And then Izaya was searching through the draw of the nightstand and – _holy fuck_ – Izaya's skirt brushed up against the blonde's hand, and he _swears_ he felt skin, and Shizuo could hardly take it anymore because _he's touched Izaya's freaking __**thigh**_ and his fingers felt like they'd been _fucking burnt_-

_Breathe, Shizuo. Just breathe._

The rest passed in a painful blur of clenched shut eyes, and gritted teeth, and the little noise of triumph Izaya made when he found what he was looking for – _about goddam time_, Shizuo thought darkly – did not help Shizuo with his… err, _problem_.

Then Izaya said it was time to go, so Shizuo stood with his back to him near the bed, waiting for Izaya to let them out, waiting to get outside into the cool night air-

And he gulped, because that meant that Izaya would be all pressed up against him for support because of his stupid ankle. And he wanted to slap himself for hurting it in the first place, because he was just _so_ _fucking_ _stupid_.

Izaya on the other hand, ankle sore again from his latest fall, was taking his time. He walked along the bed for support, but stopped just near Shizuo. He doesn't know how to say it, but he just _can't_. He cannot walk.

Shizuo may have to carry him.

Shizuo was so painfully aware of the other's laboured breath, and his lack of movement to the door, and finally, _finally_ he snaps.

Izaya thought that Shizuo tripped, because that is the _only reason_ Shizuo would be going down on top of him on the plush mattress of the bed – but Shizuo knew better. The raven found it uncomfortable – squashed up beneath the heavy body, and suddenly, it was all too hot – The room was too hot, and _Shizuo_ was too hot, and he laughed, trying to break the moment, _trying_ not to sound nervous.

"Don't you think you should buy me dinner first, Shizu-chan?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively for maximum effect. Maybe it wasn't the best of times to rile Shizuo up, not when he could so _easily_ break his neck, but it'd become a bad habit after so many years. A flustered blush and some yelling, as Shizuo pulled himself up, is what Izaya expected.

What he didn't expect was a kiss. Especially not one that felt hotter than the sun. Especially not one that emptied his lungs and made him light-headed. Especially not one that crushed them so close together that he could feel how _hard_ Shizuo was, and made him wonder when _that_ had happened. Especially not one that left him _paralyzed_.

Well, _almost_ paralyzed.

There was a click, metal against skin, that had Shizuo pulling back. He'd forgotten about that knife. Of _course_ Izaya would have it with him.

He resisted the urge to growl and flick it from the smaller man's wrist. It wasn't as if he _needed_ Izaya's consent anyhow. If he wanted to – nothing could've stopped him from ripping him bare and taking right there, right then.

But that was…

"We are **not** doing this," Izaya hissed, once his lungs were refilled. As much as he tried to hide it, Shizuo could see the panic in his eyes, as he struggled slightly – uselessly – under his deadweight.

Shizuo softened, pressing his lips back against Izaya's, who at first remained motionless, save for his knife that was pressing ever harder into Shizuo's neck. But then, one of Shizuo's hands wandered their way down to his thighs – _those_ _thighs_ - and had Izaya making a sound that Shizuo could not help but think would have sounded like a kittenish mewl had his lips not been in the way, and loosening his grip on the knife.

It was the thud, muted by the thick carpet, of Izaya's knife hitting the floor that brought them to.

"We are not doing this," Izaya closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. "Here."

* * *

_A/N: Nearly finished guys. Some smut coming up soon :P_


End file.
